


The Game Is On

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fan theory, Jim's insane, Personal fan theory take it or leave it, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3314045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty's alive. Moriarty's insane. </p><p>What happens when he discovers Sherlock Holmes is alive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game Is On

**Author's Note:**

> This contains one of my personal fan theories. It's a stretch, I know, but I think it fits well into the story arc, so take it or leave it, either's fine by me.

Jim Moriarty sat in his new flat over in Glasgow, smiling at the screens in front of him.

They showed the surveillance systems for all of his snipers (especially Moran) and their marks (especially Dr. Watson) and were glowing brightly.

It’s been two years since he pretended to blow his brains out on the roof of St. Bart’s. Sherlock even tried to stop him. How ordinary! So very human.

He had heard Sherlock’s “note” to Dr. Watson, and even saw him fall.

Goddammit, he didn’t expect the man to _kill_ himself as well!

Suddenly the feed to Mycroft Holmes’s elaborate office at Buckingham Palace started to collect static. Same for the sniper trained on him.

“What the _fuck_ is going on here?” he murmured. He’d been watching Dr. Watson too much, the talk of a soldier was wearing off on him. Disgusting.

He checked the other feeds, lingering on the former soldier’s. Watson had his limp back, and was currently making tea.

What piqued Moriarty’s interest was the fact that there were two teacups on the counter.

He hadn’t done that in months. Was he expecting company?

He must’ve caught himself, and then Moriarty saw the man break down. Not in tears, though. In rage.

“DAMMIT SHERLOCK! WHY THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU JUMP?! YOU FUCKING TOSSER!!”

The offending teacup was launched with much force at the living room wall, where it shattered against the wall, right underneath that childish smiley face.

The consulting criminal giggled. Watson had been a stoic soldier for the past few months, and now he saw the true soldier, the soldier of rage, come out.

It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

He flicked back to Mycroft’s feed, and found an error message, saying that the cables had been disconnected and that the feed was not found.

He hissed in rage. He flicked over to the elder Holmes’s sniper.

The video was clear. Quite clear, actually. And the sniper was dead.

There was a note attached to the man’s jacket.

Making a few clicks, he zoomed in on it.

       _Are you stayin’ alive?_

He didn’t need much time to deduce who wrote the note, and killed the sniper.

“Welcome back, Sherlock,” he grinned. “I’ll admit, the games have been boring without you, you’re the only one who can figure me out. Your brother first, though? I’m surprised. I would’ve thought you would save your pet doctor first. He’s in bad shape, you know.”

He stood up and stretched. “Though I suppose you figured that would’ve made it too blatantly obvious.”

The consulting criminal stood and paced for a bit, thinking of how to best derail Sherlock Holmes.

He dialed a number. “Hello?” replied a woman’s voice.

“Do you remember the plan for if things got interesting?” he asked.

“Of course, Jim.”

“Recite it. Short words.”

“Marry Dr. Watson.”

“Good girl. Put it in place.”

“Standing by,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Why, you’re welcome, Mary my dear.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are shiny!!


End file.
